


Death's Protege

by zemira



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: !Reaper! Kouki, Alternate Universe, Both Akashis, Chibis, I didn't label it character death because the fic itself is death so, I'll leave it at that, M/M, You might find the first part sad but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-21 19:52:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11951445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zemira/pseuds/zemira
Summary: Kouki is the next in line to become Death. When his brother is unable to fulfill the tasks for one of his shifts, the hardship falls upon him. On that day, he meets six-year-old Akashi Seijuro, who is nowhere as innocent as he appears to be.





	Death's Protege

“Hino Isao.” He glanced down. “Last seen in emergency room.”

The cause informed him that departure wasn’t too far off.

“Supposed to go in an hour.”

Furihata Kouki sighed, tucking the clipboard at his side. This was the least of duties he wished to attend on his day off. Or any day, for that matter. Witnessing people clinging to the final stage of life, and then succumbing to cessation, wasn’t his idea of a grand ol’ time. He couldn’t imagine it was for the one soon to perish, either.

Ironically, he was surrounded by death day in and day out. If he was being honest, was death itself, but he was around the already collected souls. He didn’t need to watch the light fade from peoples’ eyes as their soul began to depart from their body. Nor did he want to see their final gasp, hear their last heartbeat. He was in training for it, yes, and was the next of kin to take over the role. But he still had time until his brother stepped down. How much he didn’t know, and he surely wasn’t counting down the moments to that faithful era.

Yet today, said brother was unable to complete his usual tasks, and he was in place. Kouki had already been to multiple locations that his brother was assigned to. He hoped this would be the final stop for the day.

Couldn’t mortals wait until he had returned to his normal post to pass on? No, of course not. Death had no set time. Only he knew when it would occur, and even then, it had a cruel habit of surprising him.

Heaving a breath, he continued his rounds.

“Azuma Mitsue.” He glanced at the clipboard. “Deceased? Huh? How is that possible?”

Sure, there were numerous assistants assigned to other locations to lessen the burden, but this was his designated area.

“Unless there was another mix up.”

Kouki cringed. That occurred very rarely, and when it did, there were severe consequences. The one who was to gather the soul, was to be stationed moments before it would be separating from the body. Not after. It was a bit more difficult to handle a wandering soul than it was to collect it right then and there.

Distracted, he didn’t notice the nurse heading straight toward him. Not as though it was much of an issue, since she wouldn’t acknowledge his presence. They passed through each other with ease, as though there had never been anything before the other. But then she suddenly paused to shudder, quickly rubbing her arms as goosebumps emerged from the unknown icy waft.

Ah, right. Mortals could sense the chill of death when they were unfortunate to bump into it. However, it was for a brief moment, and then everything returned to the way it had been.

Which restored his previous dilemma. What was he supposed to do now? The room number was still next to the name, but what would happen if they weren’t there? Kouki didn’t know how to patch up any slipups. This wasn’t a section of the training he had received, thus far.

A sudden tug on his pant leg caused him to freeze.

“Excuse me. Can you please bring me more juice?”

Kouki peered down to see a fluffy mane of red. A child of about five or so, was staring up at him with wide, crimson eyes. He was dressed in a hospital gown with a little lion printed across it, and in his hand, was an empty juice carton.

How adorable he wa…wait a second. This kid could see him?

“Mister?”

“You can see me?”

The kid raised his eyebrows. “Well, yeah, how could I not? You’re kinda big to miss.”

Kouki flipped through the papers on the clipboard, searching for the little tyke’s photo. This child was far too young to be on the list, so it had to either be another mistake (which he still needed to solve the other one, and fast) or someone overlooked that children were indeed able to notice them.

Finally, to his dismay, he found it.

Akashi Seijuro, age six. The date and time, however, was to be determined. He had been in the hospital since last month, diagnosed with a severe illness. One whose name Kouki was having a difficult time pronouncing, and he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to.

This, this was exactly what he loathed about this job.

“Hey, Mister.”

Kouki blinked. Did his attire resemble one of the staff? He was one of death, but he surely didn’t walk around in a cloak and a terrifying scythe lugged over his shoulder. A casual black attire with black gloves to match. The ones that would carefully cart the soul when the needed time came.

Weren’t the staff usually in white?

“Ah, I’m sorry. You said you needed some juice?”

Seijuro nodded. “Yeah! I was trying to get the lady, but I’m too small to reach the button that gets her.”

“Your mother isn’t there to get it?”

The child’s gaze lowered. “My mom died last year.”

Glancing at the clipboard, Kouki wanted to bang his head. How did that one important fact soar by him? It was horrible enough the kid was clueless that his bleak future was inevitable, and now he had just made it worse by being dense about fragile questions.

“S-sorry! I didn’t know.” Kouki straightened. “What about your dad?”

Seijuro frowned. “He said he had to go to work. But my aunt is here. She fell asleep, though, and I don’t wanna wake her up.”

No mother, father absent, incurable illness. This child had had a depressing short life so far.

“So, can you please get me some juice?”

Kouki knew for certain that was impossible, but maybe he could direct him toward someone who could.

“Yeah.” Kouki looked around and spotted someone who he assumed was part of the staff. “Let’s go this way.”

Guiding him toward the staff member, Kouki nudged the child to stand before them. Instantly, she took notice, and knelt down to his level.

“Sei-chan,” she said softly, “What are you doing out of your room?”

He held up his empty carton.

“I couldn’t reach the button.” Seijuro pointed next to him. “This guy said he’d get it for me.”

The staff member blinked at the empty space.

“Who said they would, Sei-chan?”

“This guy.” His gaze met Kouki’s. “Can’t you see him?”

Her response was to giggle. “What an imagination you have!” She reached for his hand. “Let’s go back to your room, and I’ll get you more juice.”

“But.”

Seijuro pouted as he was whisked down the hall. He peered behind at where Kouki was still standing, seemingly confused about the whole ordeal. It couldn’t be helped, though. Besides, the kid was in good hands, was he not?

…For now, at least.

Kouki discarded the ghastly forthcoming. That wasn’t something he wanted to think about at the given moment. Instead, he needed to focus on the other mishap, to somehow try to correct it. He couldn’t return home without the list being completed, and this certainly was going to prevent that from happening. Especially if said person’s soul had already been collected, unbeknownst to his knowledge.

It wasn’t that it was necessarily terrible that might have occurred, but more so the order would be botched. Everything had to follow according to plan, each associate had their own mission. No one was to disrupt any others’.

But it looked like that was exactly what was happening to him.

“I guess I’ll head toward the room. If he’s not there, well…”

Kouki sighed. Then he would have no choice but to return and uncover what _had_ occurred. His first day in doing a job that someday he would inherit, and he was already screwing it up. He couldn’t imagine what his brother’s reaction would be.

Disappointed, most likely.

Then again, how was it his fault? He had been doing exactly what he had been assigned to! It wasn’t his fault someone got mixed up and collected a soul that was on his list. So, why would he be the one to be lectured?

Troubles discarded, he headed down the hall and searched for the dreaded room number.

“Are you looking for someone?”

He nearly leapt out of his skin at the sudden voice. Seijuro was leaning against the wall, sipping from a straw of his now new juice box.

Only the kid was now staring at him with mismatched eyes. One red, as he saw before, and the other a brilliant gold.

“Weren’t your eyes both red?”

Seijuro shrugged. “They change every now and then.” Apparently so did the way this kid talked. “I asked you a question, though. Are you looking for someone?”

And, boy, did he become a bit arrogant.

“Er, I’m looking for Azuma Mitsue.”

“You mean that crazy guy who walks up and down the hallway talking to himself?”

Kouki’s expression brightened.

“You’ve seen him?”

“A few times. He sometimes came into my room, and they made him go away. He was really weird.”

His hope flourished. Maybe he would be saved, after all.

“Did you see him at all today?”

Seijuro shook his head. “No, but you could ask the nurse at the desk. She might know where he is. It’s her job, anyway.”

What a shift in personality compared to when he first met the kid. It was as though he had somehow become another person, the distinctive eyes to confirm that presumption.

However, it was extremely impractical that he could ask for assistance. He would have to fulfill the task himself, and only by himself. Kouki was hoping it was going to have the end result he was yearning for.

“Thanks. I’ll… do that.”

Not really.

Despite the kid’s suggestion, Kouki resumed his previous route. If the hounded man wasn’t in the room, there was still one other location he could check. One he was pleading that he wouldn’t have to visit.

“You’re going the wrong way.” Seijuro was once more by his side. “The desk is over there.”

Ignoring Seijuro’s disapproval, which resulted in a huff, Kouki continued until he reached his destination. Standing outside the room, he closed his eyes, counted to three, and heaved a shaky breath before stepping into the room.

He could hear the pitter patter of socked feet, and knew Seijuro was behind him. It mattered not, nor did he pay it much attention. He had something more concerning to take care of.

So with that intention in mind, Kouki headed toward the bed, pulling back the curtains.

To uncover vacant bedspread.

“Noooo!” At the moment, it was impossible not to shout. Then again, who could hear him, anyway? “Why??”

Seijuro instantly rushed toward him.

“Mister.” He sounded concerned, nothing like how he was seconds ago. “Did you get hurt? Are you okay?”

Kouki sat on the floor, jaw clenched in frustration. How was he going to deal with the next step? That was the last place he wished to venture to. Why did it have to be there? And how come it had to be on his first day? Who hated him so much back at home?

He could feel a soft waft against his face. Unveiling his gaze, he was met with twin crimson.

“Hey, Mister.”

Kouki snapped from his daze, eyes focusing on the worried kid.

“I’m okay,” he finally said, “I tripped. That’s all.”

Seijuro nodded. “I fell this morning. It was really hard for me to get up. I had to get help.”

Of course he did. After all, he was…

“I hope you weren’t hurt.”

He shook his head. “No, I was fine. I got hurt the other day when I hit my toe. That really hurt.”

Kouki frowned. “You should be in bed right now, then.”

“That was the other day!” He pouted. “I don’t wanna go back. It’s so boring there. No one will play with me.”

Something wrapped around his heart like a vice. If it still pulsed with life, that was. Kouki could see how lonely the kid was, and it only made matters worse at how clueless he was about how his demise was closing in on him.

Seriously, he _was_ standing right in front of death itself.

“Can I stay with you? You seem busy, so I won’t ask you to play. But can I go where you are?”

At another time, he would have said yes. Anything to keep the little tyke happy when he was already miserable enough. But where he was heading was no place for a kid to be. Hell, it wasn’t even a place _he_ wanted to be.

Which, ironically, Seijuro would probably end up soon.

A loud, shaky cough interrupted his musings. Seijuro was leaning over, hand clutching his stomach. Behavior that showed Kouki how much time he truly had left. And a glance at the list to see he had moved up, confirmed that.

Repressing his emotions, Kouki rested a hand on his shoulder, trying to ease his coughing fit.

“I think you need to lay down.”

Instead of answering, Seijuro stared at him, crimson eyes wide.

“You’re really cold.”

Kouki instantly recoiled. How could that have slipped his mind?

“You need a warm blanket,” the kid oddly continued, “I know where they are.”

Bewildered by the response, Kouki watched as he slowly walked toward the closet and pulled it open. Stepping into it, he disappeared for a few moments. The sounds of objects being shuffled around echoed within the small space, some crashing to the floor. When he emerged, he was dragging a blanket that was twice the size of him.

“Here.” Seijuro lifted it as best as he could from the floor to cover Kouki’s shoulders. “This will keep you warm.”

Kouki smiled faintly, well aware that death could never be warmed. Still, it was a kind gesture, and if he could feel warmth, he was sure this would be plenty.

“Thank you. That’s much better,” he lied smoothly.

Seijuro nodded. “Welcome… um… what’s your name, Mister?”

He could at least grant him that.

“Furihata. Furihata Kouki.”

The child held out his hand in proper greeting.

“I’m Seijuro.” He paused. “My last name, Akashi, is really known. Cause my dad owns a lot of places.”

Kouki shook the small hand.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Akashi-san.”

“Why are you looking for that guy?” Right to the point. Introductions, and then curious questions. “Are you friends?”

  _Friends_ , as in he was the keeper of his soul. Sure, why not.

“Kind of. I just really need to find him.”

“How come?”

Kouki swallowed. “W-well. He has to give me something.”

“Like a present?”

That was putting it lightly.

“Yeah, like a present.” 

“Oh.” Seijuro seemed disappointed. “I can help you find him. He might be—”

Another violent cough ripped through him.

“I really would like it more if you went to lay down, Akashi-san.” Kouki’s hand was once more on his shoulder. “You need to.”

Seijuro appeared anything but thrilled at the advice. The fatigue in his crimson depths disclosed another story.

“I’ll go…” he started reluctantly, “if you promise me something, Furihata-san.”

He hadn’t been expecting that.

“Promise you something?”

“Yeah.” Seijuro paused for a needed breath. “That you’ll come back tomorrow and play with me. When you’re not busy.”

Against his better judgement, Kouki knew the wisest choice would be to say no. It was difficult to stare into those large, gloomy eyes, though, and decline such an innocent request.

Far too difficult.

“All right.” Kouki had barely resisted. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Seijuro wasn’t convinced.

“Promise.” He raised his pinkie. “Swear with your pinkie.”

Kouki laughed softly. “I promise.”

Another cough.

“Now, you keep your end of the promise, and let’s go back to your room.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, not with the child’s frail health at risk. Gently easing him from the ground, Kouki carried the offered blanket and guided him back through the hall, toward the middle where he knew Seijuro was staying.

Which, of course, resulted in surprise.

“How’d you know where my room was?”

Kouki’s smile was tight. “Lucky guess.”

No, he knew exactly how.

Seijuro climbed into his bed, flopping down onto a pillow that was far too big for someone of his size.

“You better come back tomorrow, or else.”

And once more he was graced with a mismatched stare. However, with that ruffled, fluffed out head of hair, his _threat_ wasn’t very intimidating, if it was any. Although Kouki wasn’t sure how he was going to proceed with it, he knew he had to keep his promise. Even though he was going to endure a lot to uphold it.

“I will. Take a good nap now. It’ll make you feel better.”

The lie singed his tongue. Kouki knew sleep wouldn’t mend anything, but what else was there to say? He was a horrible liar, never saw anything good from it, and each time he was forced to do so, it disgusted him.

Wasn’t he a horrible person already?

Seijuro mumbled sleepily, snuggling into the pillow, but his gaze remained on Kouki. One last reminder, and then he had finally fallen into the throes of slumber, leaving Kouki to himself once more.

It was soon quiet without the little voice suggesting at his side. Yet, now he could resume his assignment without any interruptions or need of concern for the small tyke.

Even though he was really hesitant to do so.

With a sigh, Kouki ventured back down the hall and toward the elevator. He waited as the few occupants stepped out and onto the floor, assuring he wasn’t in their path so they didn’t have to deal with the brush from death.

This had to be in the lowest of levels, didn’t it? Made sense… what was that saying? Out of sight, out of mind? At least for the time being.

Arriving on the floor, he entered the silent, extremely silent, area. The faster this was done, the better for him. And if he didn’t discover what he was so desperately searching for, then he could assume the man was still amongst the living. Somewhere, in another room that wasn’t filed correctly.

Hah, really. What were the odds of that? Probably zero to none.

Everything had to be in alphabetical order, did it not? It would be the easiest for the hospital staff to locate when it was time to remove the corpse.

Locating the last name, he closed his eyes and tugged on the handle, indeed recovering his missing man. But what he didn’t expect, was the note attached to it.

 ** _Grabbed this one for ya_**.

Kouki rolled his eyes at the familiar handwriting, somewhat relieved, yet annoyed he had wasted time for nothing. Not to mention, it had thrown his own list off, and never switched the location. He placed a check mark next to the name, and the clipboard vanished in a puff of smoke.

Finally, he could return home.

Closing his eyes, he summoned the remains of his energy, puzzled he had any after everything he had endured, and then disappeared from the morgue without a trace.

Only to reappear a few seconds after.

“I forgot the one an hour from now!”

* * *

 

“Where are you going?”

Kouki froze at the sound of his brother’s voice. Oh, hell. He hadn’t exactly informed him of his plans for the day, nor was he sure _how_ he was about to. It had been his intention to venture through the mortal realm without anyone having knowledge.

“I don’t need you to cover for me anymore. I appreciate what you did yesterday. It was more than enough.”

“I know that, but there’s…”

How was he going to explain this? Was going to even begin to?

“Okay, look, don’t get mad. There’s this little kid in one of the hospitals.” Kouki flinched at the rigid stare. “…A-And I promised I’d come back and play with him.”

That stare shifted into bewilderment.

“He can see you?”

Oddly, he had the same reaction when the kid first tugged on his pant leg.

“He’s going. Not yet, but soon.” Kouki gestured to the clipboard in his brother’s hands. “Akashi Seijuro. He’s on the fourth page, but last time I checked, he was closer to the middle of the third.”

The older Furihata flipped through the pages, quickly locating the name, and then his gaze was back on Kouki.

“A-ah, please don’t look at me like that. I know we shouldn’t, but he’s so lonely, and he has no one to play with him. He’s too young to have to deal with that.”

Despite the role he possessed, Kouki knew his brother was a kind being. There had to be some leniency within him about the whole ordeal. Even if it was forbidden for them to mingle with the living, especially ones whose souls they were to gather one day.

“All right.” It was a breath of fresh air to hear that word, no matter how skeptical it sounded. “But this will be the only time. He may be going soon, but he’s still amongst the living. We can’t be communicating with them like this.”

 

 

Kouki was sure he could manage at least that commitment.

Maybe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now within the quiet hallway, he was searching for Seijuro’s room. Last he knew, it wasn’t too far from where he stood. Unless they somehow moved him elsewhere. Their list was accurate, though, and if any change had occurred, it would have corrected itself without so much of an issue.

But wait. What if others were present within the area? He couldn’t very well walk in and surprise them. No other mortal would see him, yes, but Seijuro could, and the staff didn’t need to think the ill kid was losing his mind.

Then again, he was six. He could have as many imaginative friends as he desired, and no one would bat an eyelash. At least, that was what Kouki was expecting the outcome to be.        

“Seijuro.” His steps came to a halt at the sudden voice. “The nurses said you were wandering the hallways last night. Again.”

The coolness of the man’s tone caused Kouki to shiver.

“I can’t help it, Father. I was bored. This whole place is boring.”

An annoyed, lengthy sigh. “That cannot be helped. You need to stay here. There is no other choice. We have changed hospitals for you twice now, and I am not doing it for a third time.”

“There’s nothing to do.” This kid, this six-year-old, had absolutely no issue quarreling with his father. “Not that there was anything to do at home, but at least I wasn’t caged.”

“Cease this attitude at once, Seijuro. Where has this come from?”

Kouki inched a few paces to the side. Was he wrong to eavesdrop? That hadn’t been his purpose in the first place. He had arrived to uphold his word, and had stumbled upon a father-son disagreement. Terrible timing or not. He was there now, and he had no intention in returning home until he fulfilled his promise.

From what he could fathom, Seijuro’s father didn’t appear to be anything close to a warmhearted parent. The obvious should have been when Seijuro informed him that his father had abandoned him for business matters. At that time, Kouki thought it was something that was necessary, to support the family, to assure Seijuro was receiving the greatest of care. But after listening for a few moments on how their relationship truly was, he was beginning to think otherwise.

Shouldn’t his son be his prime obligation over everything else?

The elder Akashi then took his leave, granting Kouki a direct view of the parental influence in Seijuro’s life. Rigid, anchored features. There wasn’t the ghost of a smile, if one ever existed on him. Perhaps he was stressed out about his son’s condition, and that was the reason for his behavior. Kouki knew it wasn’t his position to speak, to judge someone he had never met personally, but the man really didn’t seem to be attentive toward his son’s needs.

Not if he was going to argue with him instead of granting him his spare time for something more enjoyable.

Kouki waited for his full exit before heading into the room. He paused to poke his head through the doorway, assuring no one else was around; Seijuro’s gaze was instantly on him.

“You actually came back.”

He peered into those mismatched eyes, once more noticing the shift in the kid’s personality. This was far too strange, yet maybe it was a sign of his severe illness. Either way, Kouki was there for one reason, and that was to come through on his promise.

“Ah, yeah. I said I would be, right?”

A light smile twitched onto Seijuro’s lips.

“I really didn’t think you would.” Kouki could hear the relief in his tone. “Well, since you are, we can play something.”

Kouki pulled up a chair beside his bed. “What do you want to play?”

“Have you ever played Shogi?”

 He watched as Seijuro fished a board almost out of nowhere.

“Um… yeah, I have.”

The kid stared at him. “You are a terrible liar.”

Okay, so he hadn’t _exactly_ played it, but he did hear of it and had seen others playing it. So, that counted, didn’t it?

“It’s all right. I will teach you. It’s not hard.”

Sure, not difficult for a six-year-old who apparently didn’t act anything like one. With how he presented himself, Kouki was certain Seijuro didn’t face any challenges.

Not unless he counted…

“Pay attention.” Seijuro’s voice snapped him back to reality. “See this piece here?”

Bit by bit, Seijuro explained the game to him. Or, tried to, as Kouki found it a tad confusing. Eventually, he was able to grasp enough to play one round, where Seijuro easily crushed him. The kid was far too confident for what a six-year-old should have been, but it was probably all he had right now. Everything else had abandoned and disappointed him, so why couldn’t he have at least that? Even if he was a _bit_ too cocky.

It had been an hour after Kouki arrived, when one of the nurses came to collect him. Probably for more testing, more scans, which Seijuro was anything but pleased over.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” he stopped the nurse to turn behind.

Kouki didn’t miss the strange glance she was giving the kid that was apparently talking to himself.

“I’ll try,” he replied.

Though he already knew he was forbidden to.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He still did.

“You’re back.”

Despite the consequences he knew he would undergo after.

“Yeah. I am.”

“I’m so happy you came back, Furihata-san.” Those eyes were once more a gentle crimson hue. “Today we can play with this.”

 

 

 

 

Each day, they played something different, though Seijuro would somehow always sneak a round of Shogi in during the last few moments. He seemed to favor that the most. Aside from the stuffed replica of his horse back home he had told Kouki about and expressed how much he missed it.

Regardless of his brother’s warning, their adventures continued for a little over two weeks. He knew this was taboo, but he wanted to give Seijuro some happiness in his short life. Something he was lacking for probably quite a while, if he ever had any in the first place.

All in all, it brought Kouki a sense of peace. Peace he was going to cradle until he would meet the day where the boy’s soul would be harvested. He knew he was dealing with the inevitable, but if that day could be prolonged by granting Seijuro happiness and somehow miraculously improving his health, then he was willing to do so.

 

 

 

 

 

However, it wasn’t much later when fate decided she had delayed her journey long enough.

Kouki had been wandering through the hospital at his expected time, when he noticed one of the doctors speaking to Seijuro’s father and what he assumed were other family members. Startled by the words he was unfortunate to snag, he entered the room to encounter a pale, much paler than usual, child huddled in tons of blankets.

“I…I don’t think I can play today, Kouki.” He had gotten into the habit of calling him by his first name, which Kouki didn’t mind. Although, that only seemed to occur when his eyes were two different colors. “I feel really weak.”

Kouki smiled wistfully. “We don’t have to play today. We can just sit here.”

He pouted. “But I really want to.”

Gravely ill or not, Seijuro still had it in him to whine.

“You should sleep.” Kouki patted the fluffy head. “It’ll be good for you.”

He fought tooth and nail to stay awake, but his frail circumstances had other plans for him. Seijuro began to drift off, in his arms the stuffed, white horse, held tightly to his chest. Kouki watched with a frown, pulling the blankets closer to him, and then slowly stood from his chair to take leave and not disturb Seijuro’s much needed rest.

When something reached out to stop him.

He peered down to see Seijuro still asleep, but the grip he had on the corner of his suit told another story. Kouki smiled softly, flopping back down into the chair, and squeezing the small hand in return. Craning his neck, he peered out into the hallway to notice Seijuro’s father was now absent.

Kouki tried not to scoff. He wouldn’t judge, he couldn’t judge.

But if his father wasn’t going to, then he would be the one to offer Seijuro comfort in his final days.

* * *

 

A clipboard dropped into his lap.

“Huh?” Kouki peered up. “Do you have something to do today?”

His brother gestured toward it. “Look who’s on top. I figured this was one you wanted to do.”

As he should have predicted, Seijuro was the first name on the list. So that was what had been developing the past few days when he didn’t see him. Kouki had gone to his room, and the kid hadn’t been there. He had returned the following day with the same results. They must have relocated him since his end was nearing.

Well… he knew it wasn’t long from the last time he saw him. It still royally blew to know it was here, though.

“I-I guess I better hurry and go get it.”

His brother nodded. “Since you’re going there, you can take care of the others who should be ready this evening.”

“Ah, right. I’ll be in their spots after I get the Akashi one.” Kouki cringe internally at those words. “See ya later.”

 

 

 

 

 

It was odd not heading toward Seijuro’s original room, the one he had visited on multiple occasions within the past two weeks. According to the list, he had been moved to another wing of the hospital, much further than his previous location had been, and about four floors above.

Almost at his destination, the list quickly switched. Now he was in the ICU. Ah, damnit! it was changing way too fast for him to keep up with! He could easily…

Kouki shook his head. No, even if it was an emergency, he wouldn’t be allowed to do that on Earth.

He reached the white doors, peering down at the list to notice something he had been dreading since the abrupt swap. It was already marked as deceased. Taking a brief moment to bow his head in respect, Kouki then hurried through the doors, searching for the body. But they were already wheeling the sheet covered lump out.

If that were the case, then where was the…

“Furihata-san!”

Oh, good. There he was. That was less of a hassle than what he had been anticipating. A wandering soul would have been a bit troublesome to obtain. Even if it had taken shape, he could still guide Seijuro to the world beyond.

“You came back, Kouki. I haven’t seen you for a few days.”

…Wait a second…

Why did it sound like there were…

Kouki swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to diminish the nauseating dread heightening in his gut. Reversing his steps, he was greeted by one Seijuro with mismatched eyes, and another with the soft crimson. The same sets he had encountered each time he had visited to play with the child, the same he thought was a bizarre part of the kid’s severe illness.

But this…this… he…

“Waaaa!” He stumbled backwards. “There’s two of you! How?! Why?!”

The unicolor Seijuro frowned. “Why are you scared, Furihata-san? It’s okay. This is my brother. He’s another side of me.”

“…Another… another…” Kouki babbled, words refusing to fashion correctly, “Y-you…you…”

The heterochromatic one snorted. “I believe you have it wrong. You are the other side of me.”

“No! You are! You were inside my head!”

Frantically flipping through his papers, Kouki searched for something, _anything_ that would explain what he was witnessing. In what section of the handbook did it say that a soul could evolve into two physical forms? Of a soul splitting because of a second personality? Hell, for that matter, where was it anywhere that one could shape into the deceased individual on Earth? That wasn’t supposed to happen until after they crossed over.

How come he had never been told any of this? Why did this have to…ha…ha…

Kouki’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, his hands reaching to clutch at the nearest object that would save him from toppling over.

“Furihata-san!”

One of the Seijuros scrambled to try to steady him, grabbing onto his side, and evoking a reaction no one would have foreseen. Not even Kouki himself.

A dark, feathery extension protruded from the black attire, causing the two Seijuros to scurry away from him. Crimson-eyed-one was first to react, and cautiously inched forward, his soft gaze wide with awe and surprise.

“Oh, wow! You have wings!”

Great. As if he didn’t have enough concerns at the moment.

Mismatched-eyes continued… … Forget it! He was just going to call the mismatched one Seijuro Two and the other Seijuro… to stare at him, gawking at the wing as though it was something beyond reality. Which in a way, he suppose it was.

“Can I touch them?” Seijuro Two asked, fingers already curling.

His “brother” elbowed him. “You can’t touch them! That’s impolite!”

“Stop whining,” he scoffed, “It’s like touching his hand.”

“No it’s not.”

While the two quarreled, Kouki used the moment to compose himself, tucking his wings back into their proper place. Heaving a sigh, he combed his fingers through his hair as he peered down at the clipboard. How was he going to sort this clutterfest out? Although it wasn’t entirely his fault, the two were now in his ward. He was responsible for anything, _anything_ , that happened until they finally crossed over.

… If only he could figure out how to stitch them back into one soul… and undo the transformation for the time being.

 “How come you’re here, Furihata-san?” The question yanked him from his dilemma. “Did you come back to play?”

Kouki’s chuckle was strained. “Uh, not exactly.”

“We can’t, anyway.” Seijuro Two pointed down the hall. “Our room and all our toys are gone. Even the game board. They took it away, and we can’t find it.”

Seijuro nodded. “Yeah, and when one of us tried to ask, we were ignored.” His brows creased. “Almost as if they can’t see us.”

The remark nearly choked him. Once again, Kouki was overwhelmed by the sense of dread.

 “… T-they can’t.”

Immediately, twin gazes were on him.

Kouki swallowed. “They can’t see you.”

“How do you know that, Kouki?”

He hesitated. Kouki hadn’t planned for this. The soul was supposed to be harvested, and then he would be on to his next assignment. There was no possible way he could have predicted he would be late, the soul would somehow take shape ahead of time, and not only that, but it would split into two beings instead of one.

Nope, not even close.

“B-because you’ve passed on,” he found himself saying, “You’re no longer alive.”

The Akashi expressions were puzzled. Really, though, should that have been a surprise?

Seijuro’s nose wrinkled cutely. “But how come you can see us?”

“Ah, well…”

“Is it not obvious?” Seijuro Two interjected, “He’s obviously dead, too. We have been talking and playing with a dead guy.”

Kouki waved his hand. “H-hey, hold up.”

“That’s weird,” Seijuro returned, “Isn’t he supposed to be like a ghost, then?”

“Who knows? But he is really cold. Remember? Ghosts are cold. I think.”

Kouki frowned. “W-wait a minute…”

“We’re ghosts then, right? But then how come we’re not cold?” Seijuro touched the other one’s forehead.  “You don’t feel cold, brother.”

As they took turns checking each other’s temperature, Kouki reviewed the list to assure he was going to be on time for the rest. He wouldn’t be able to withstand it if he was tardy, not if it was going to result in what he was dealing with now. If anything, he was going to have to make hast, and be at the location a good fifteen minutes beforehand, to prevent another mishap.

The Akashi twins then stopped their experimenting, turning to him with questioning expressions.

“Kouki, are you dead?”

That word was beginning to exhaust him.

 “I’m not dead,” he sighed, “I-I’m… death.”

Seijuro Two’s brows lowered. “Is that not the same?”

“Not exactly. You see, it’s… er…”

Oh, for the gods’ sake. He was attempting to explain something complicated to a child. Er… children. Anything he said wasn’t going to sound logical, but he would somehow try to explain the process. Though it seemed impossible at the moment, Kouki was hoping it would lessen their confusion a bit.

“You see… I come when someone is about to pass on,” he began, “No one can see me, so it’s usually pretty easy to get by.”

 _Usually._ Not this time, though.

“But we weren’t dead when we first saw you.” By his wrinkled demeanor, Kouki knew he had only puzzled Seijuro even more.  “How come we were able to see you before?”

Of course that would be the first question.

“Because we were ill, so we were kind of in that stage.” Leave it to Seijuro Two to solve that mystery. “Is that not right, Kouki?”

He nodded reluctantly. “… Y-yes.” Kouki heaved a slow breath. “I-I need to... I have to collect your soul so you can go to the next world.”

Given the stares he received, that obviously hadn’t been the correct phrasing.

Seijuro was quiet, his crimson eyes downcast, and the sadness reflecting within them. However, Seijuro Two had a different mindset.

“I don’t want to go yet,” he declared stubbornly, “There’s so many things I still have to do.”

Kouki was beginning to wonder if he would be the first in history that had to endure a situation like this. Where was it in the handbook that death was a babysitter? Especially for two kids that were only supposed to be one soul.

“..A-ah, well… you can’t anymore.”

He ignored the pout, gaze moving to Seijuro who had approached his side, tugging on his shirttail.

“Are you gonna come with us, Furihata-san?”

Kouki nodded. “Yeah, but I need to get the other souls first.”

“Oh, okay.” Seijuro seemed satisfied by the answer. But then continued with, “So then we can stay with you while you do that.” He peered at Seijuro Two for confirmation. “Right, brother?”

Kouki froze.

“H-hey, wait a second—”

“That is fine with me.” Seijuro Two shrugged. “So since we are dead, does that mean we can haunt people? That sounds fun. Does it not, brother?”

Seijuro frowned in disapproval. “No, that’s mean. I don’t wanna.” He clutched one of Kouki’s hands. “I’m gonna stay with Furihata-san.”

Noticing this, Seijuro Two rushed to his other side, grabbing onto his spare.

“I want to hold his hand, too.”

Repressing a groan, Kouki resumed his rounds. Though it was next to impossible to glance at the clipboard with both of his hands captured.

 “He doesn’t feel cold like before,” Seijuro voiced, “I wonder if it’s ‘cause we’re dead.”

Seijuro Two scoffed. “What was your first clue? Of course that’s why.”

Trekking down the hallway, Kouki tried to retrieve the clipboard from his inner suit pocket. As he was grudgingly learning… the extremely difficult way… mortals had a tendency to decline faster than what they were scheduled for. He wanted to be absolutely certain there weren’t any changes on the list, ones he had to be on the lookout for.

Somehow… though he was clueless on the _how_ , he was able to nudge it from his jacket, using his chin to keep it in place. Thankfully, nothing had changed, but he wanted to be at the destination early for the name on top in case something _did_ happen to switch.

 “How come you do this, Kouki? Is it not odd? Are the people you do this with going to be ghosts, too?”

This shift was going to be filled with never ending questions, wasn’t it.

“They’re not ghosts. They’re… um….” How was he supposed to explain this when the first part already puzzled them? “They’re going to the next world.”

Well, that was _half_ of it. Once the souls for the day in this area were collected, they would be filed before they were able to transform into their once physical form… just not as solid. Which was ironic, since the two Seijuros wouldn’t stop rambling on about ghosts.

“You don’t become a “ghost” until you leave here,” he found himself saying, if he was even making sense, “You’ll see when we do.”

Seijuro Two didn’t seem pleased by the response.

“How is that fun? Everyone there are already ghosts, so no one will be there to haunt.”

This kid was obsessed with scaring people. Yet his “brother”… er… real self… oh forget it… seemed to be the complete opposite.

With a sigh, Kouki reached the fated room, choosing to stay a few feet behind. There were numerous people crowding around the door, most likely delivering their parting words. He quickly peered at the list to be certain that was the _only_ reason, and he hadn’t mistaken it for anything else.

However, there weren’t any staff nearby, other than the ones who assisted the patient’s needs. That brought him a sense of relief in knowing he had been on time.

“Furihata-san.” There was a tug on his sleeve. “Are you gonna go in there and take that person’s soul?”

A slight laugh. “Uh, yeah, but not just yet. We’re going to stay here for a bit.”

“That is boring.” Of course Seijuro Two would find it tedious, but then… “I want to go in and see them.”

Kouki launched forward, grabbing onto his collar when he began to head toward the group.

“N-no! You can’t do that! There are rules we have to follow, so please listen to me.”

“Listen to Furihata-san.” Seijuro wagged his finger. “You’re being rude, brother.”

That idea was instantly dismissed when Seijuro Two noticed how tightly the other was holding onto Furihata.

“Why are you so close?” He frowned. “You are pulling on Kouki’s sleeve.”

“I like Furihata-san.” Seijuro only smushed himself deeper into the dark attire. “He’s really nice.”

And of course, his other side was soon captured, Seijuro Two clutching at him the exact same.

“I like him, too.”

Seijuro glared from his post. “I like him more!”

“No, I do.”

Ignoring their bickering, Kouki observed the various people entering and exiting the room. A doctor then approached, placing his hand on the shoulder of a woman who appeared to be in her early seventies. This was usually where the process began to accelerate, and by the echoing sobs, Kouki knew his hunch was correct.

“That must be his wife,” he mumbled to himself.

Or someone who was extremely dear to him. It was positively awful to have to witness. This was the worst part of the job, the part he absolutely loathed. Hearing family members saying teary goodbyes to their loved one, vowing that they would meet again one day. Despite how miserable this chapter of the cycle might have made him, the second part was acceptable, since he knew that was most of the truth.

“Kouki, are you married?”

He choked, clearly not expecting that, especially when the two had been arguing only seconds ago.

“W-what? N-no, I’m not married.”

“Are you dating anyone?”

Where was this coming from? For that matter, why was a _six-year-old_ asking these type of questions?

Seijuro Two pulled on his shirttail when he didn’t receive an immediate response.

“N-no. I’m not.”

There was another pause, before…

“Then, we should get married.”

Another tug on his sleeve. Seijuro was side-glaring his brother.

“Why do you get to marry him? I wanna marry him!”

Seijuro Two rolled his eyes. “He played a game with me first, so therefore, I get to marry him.”

“He met me first! You only came out after you finally got your juice that you made me ask for!”

Thoroughly exhausted, Kouki scanned the clipboard, confirming the others weren’t advancing early. It probably would have been less of a hassle, if they invested in a signal that would emerge from the list when such circumstances were occurring. Anything was better than craning his neck (especially today, he was doing it more than what was needed) to constantly assure there was no change in the selected names.

Finally, the time had arrived.

Tucking the clipboard back into his inner pocket, he retrieved the black gloves, cautiously sliding them on. Once secure, he turned to the Akashi twins, who had stopped arguing when he began to prepare, and gave them a simple, desperate command.

“I’ll be right back. Stay here. Please!”

Receiving blank stares, Kouki used that as a sign, and entered the room, easily guiding past the family members. He waited patiently, watching the man gasp his last breath, his chest rising and then falling before stilling. The monitor next to him slowed, one final beep freeing him from the binds of life.

He counted the seconds, surveying the soul hovering over the man’s parted lips. Hands trembling, Kouki gently seized it, carefully releasing it into the sack that had appeared only for that task. Once the process was through, it disappeared in a puff of smoke, and Kouki breathed a relieved sigh.

At least this one went according to plan.

Bowing his head in respect, he returned to the hall, just in time to hear-“Since we are ghosts, I bet we can go through that door over there.”

“Ghosts can do that, right?”

“I bet I can get there before you.”

“You’re on!”

The twins then dashed off, heading right on the path that would lead straight into a door. Kouki’s eyes widened, rushing after them, and grabbing them by their shirts before they could collide with it or anything else. They whined in protest, wiggling to free themselves from his grip, but it was futile.

“What are you doing?!”

Seijuro Two was still pouting. “We were only testing if we could go through that door. Seeing how we are ghosts and all.”

His eye twitched. “That’s not how it works! You could have been seriously hurt!”

“Sorry, Furihata-san.” Seijuro’s head was bowed. “We didn’t mean to make you mad.”

Seijuro Two was a little less apologetic, if he was any. “We were only trying to see if we could go through the door.”

“It’s all right.” Kouki’s tone was somewhat calmer. “I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“But how can we?” Seijuro Two asked, “We are ghosts.”

He was about to resume his course, when there was a sudden, icy waft. Puzzled, Kouki searched for the culprit, and nearly fainted when he realized it was his brother. Had he done something wrong? The Akashi twins mishap, yes, but what else could have slipped by him that he wasn’t aware of?

Rather than lecture him, the elder Furihata stared at the two kids hidden behind Kouki.

“I had this feeling you were in trouble.”

Panic mode activated. “I was late, and they took shape too early! I have no idea how it happened, or how one kid became two!”

His brother patted his back in reassurance.

“It happens. Don’t worry. I’ll take it from here, so you can take them back.”

Wanting to leap in elation was an understatement. Striving to keep the two out of harm, and prevent any mischief had been exhausting. Kouki had been anxiously awaiting to vacate the premises, probably had been for the past half an hour. But the problem was, were they ready? The Akashi twins were still hiding behind him, seemingly frightened at the abrupt presence of his brother.

“Are you ready?” he spoke softly, hoping it would ease them, “We’re going to leave now.”

The elder Furihata noticed how they then latched onto Kouki’s hands, staring up at him suspiciously.

“They seem to have become attached to you.”

Kouki repressed another groan.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered.

Seijuro was the first to respond.

“I’m ready,” he said quietly, peering over at the other, “Are you, brother?”

A snort; obviously he wasn’t.

“I guess.” Seijuro Two shrugged. “I don’t have much of a choice, now do I?”

Kouki squeezed their hands. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see when we get there.”

His final, lingering thought, as they disappeared into the familiar light, was how was he going to survive eternity in this manner? Maybe as the two aged, their fondness toward him would begin to diminish. After all, it was quite possible that they were only attached to him because of all they had endured.

And they were children.

He nodded to himself, confident in his theory. Yes, of course. Once that passed, and they saw that there was nothing to be afraid of, being freed from their illness and regaining happiness, their attachment toward him would fade away.

 

 

 

 

 

An unlikely hope.

 

 

 

 

**Ten years later:**

Thankfully, after they had returned home that day, they were somehow able to stitch Seijuro back into one person. Though, they constantly switched back and forth, as both still harbored a strong attachment to Kouki, and fought to always have his attention. That had been the difficult part, but eventually, everything had worked out the way it was supposed to.

To some extent…

“Kouki.” Seijuro Two was sitting beside him. “I am a man now. Have you not reconsidered my offer?”

An assistant with blue hair, similar to Kouki’s height, peered over at the still six-year-old.

“What man? I do not see any man here.”

Mismatched eyes narrowed, and the assistant was promptly ignored.

 “Kouki,” he nudged again.

“N-no!” was the answer, “You’re a child! I’m not dating you!”

Seijuro Two huffed loudly, not pleased by the response.

“It’s not my fault that you brought me here when I was in my six-year-old body!”

 

 

 

**~FIN**


End file.
